The Tainted Glory
by missallyrose
Summary: Glory comes with a price. A horrible one. But who will pay it? *CLOSED*
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there! FreckleFacedFiend here to tell you that I will be writing an awesome beyond awesome SYOT! If you want, ya'll can read the story part below to get a feel for my writing, or can just scroll down to the bottom of the page where there is a fancy tribute form and a big friendly yellow conversation bubble thingy that gives you a cookie when you press it! Just kidding… no cookies :-)**

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><p>Larris bared her blinding white teeth to her illuminated mirror, inspecting the pearly surfaces for the slightest blemish. She closed her mouth, her raspberry lips twisted into a smug smirk. <em>They love you, Larris. You've got them in the palm of your hand.<em> Larris winked at her reflection, tossing her salmon pink locks over her slim shoulder. "Let's do this babe," she purred to herself, then stalked out of her dressing room and onto the set. About ten little flitting assistants ran over to her and powdered her face, fixed her candy curls, or touched up the painted beauty mark to the upper left of Larris's plump lips.

"One, two, three…" the director made a gesture signaling that the camera was rolling.

Larris plastered a blinding smile onto her face. It was the same seductive smile and purring voice that had won her fifty-three boyfriends in the past ten years. "Hello, Capitol! I'm here to remind you to tune in to me and twenty-four determined teenagers next week for the Forty-Ninth Hunger Games!" A pause. "Who will each District provide this year? Bloodthirsty killers?" Larris's eyes widened with fright. She was great at deception. "Yellow-bellied cowards? The only way to find out is to watch the Games next week! See you there," She winked at the camera.

"Cut!" The director said. He leapt down from his chair and approached the candy-haired woman. "Great job Larris! No one will dare miss the Games with you hosting!"

She gave him a smug look. "You're absolutely right."

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><p>Don't you just love dear young Larris like the rest of the Capitol? She is going to be our commentator for the whole Games, and after each chapter I will try to include a little Larris bit.<p>

Here are the districts and their jobs. I don't care if it isn't completely accurate, you must use it to avoid confusion:

**District One - **Luxury Items

**District Two - **Weapons and Peacekeepers

**District Three- **New Technology

**District Four - **Fishing

**District Five - **Shepherding

**District Six - **Scientists and Medical

**District Seven - **Lumber

**District Eight - **Textiles

**District Nine - **Hunting

**District Ten - **Mathematics and Architecture

**District Eleven - **Agriculture

**District Twelve - **Coal Mining

Anyway, here is the form:

**Name: (pretty obvious, everyone's gotta have a name, right?)**

**Age: (12-18)**

**Gender: (not many choices on that one)**

**District: (see above list)**

**Personality: (SUPER-detailed. Mary-Sues and Gary-Stu's will be killed brutally, violently, and embarrassingly in the bloodbath)**

**Appearance: (not every tribute can be a Barbie doll or Brad Pitt. I want at least one physical imperfection, preferably two. But that doesn't mean nobody can be attractive, either.)**

**History: (As detailed as possible, nothing too tragic, like orphaned Careers who were sold to a former victor to train or whatever. I can have one or two orphans and soap opera tragic people but not too many).**

**Family: (Names, Personality, Attitude to tribute, and Appearance)**

**Friends: (Same as above)**

**Reaped or Volunteered? If volunteered: reason?:**

**Attitude towards Games? Towards Capitol?:**

**Alliances: **

**Friendships?:**

**Romance?: (I like romance myself, I am a true romantic, but not every tribute can be Romeo or Juliet. )**

**Private Training Strategy: (I will not actually write what happens in the private session, but this will give me a good idea of how they will act in the arena)**

**Any mishaps with other tributes?: (I ****love**** tribute mishaps. And the word mishaps)**

**Strengths: (Not every one can be Clark Kent)**

**Weaknesses:**

**Optional:**

***Quotes?: (for any point in the story)**

***Chariot outfit:**

***Interview outfit:**

***Reaping outfit:**

***Tribute token: (keep in mind that unless you specify that you don't want one, your tribute ****will**** have a token, so no worries if you can't think of one. I'll come up with one. That's what authors are for.)**

***Things I've forgotten to mention?: (Basically, this is the "other" category, but "other" is so overused!)**

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><p>Reapings will begin once I have the District One tributes. I split my Reaping in half, the first part is the POV of six tributes actually getting Reaped (I do one tribute per district for reapings, but then the other tribute gets a part in the interviews, don't worry!), and the second is the POV of six tributes on the train ride.<p>

Have fun, fellow writers. May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!


	2. Reapings 16

**Here are the Reapings from District One to Six! I'll explain how I am going to do things down below.**

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><p><strong>D1: Rhapsody Myra<strong>

Rhapsody angrily scrambles the eggs in the pan, whipping them around as if they had killed her mother. But the eggs are innocent. The Games aren't. The Games had stolen the last shred of sanity that her parents had, taking away their lives with the help of the Peacekeepers.

"Ahh!" Rhapsody cringes, the spoon dropping to the floor as she clutches her elbow and the throbbing jagged scar that decorates it. "Damnit! Patch, get down here or we'll be late and the Peacekeepers will kill us, too!" She swears again, sitting down at the old kitchen table. She remembers that once, when she was very little, her whole family had gathered around the table, teaching Rhapsody to play cards, and her mother had a huge, radiant grin on her face. This place used to be happy. But now the old mansion is silent and glaring, reminding Rhapsody of all her faults and scars and the reason why she should have never turned fourteen. "Patch!"

His thundering steps gallop down the marble stairs as he finally enters the kitchen: a bright, airy room adorned with modern appliances and cheery yellow paint. Patch gives her a look with his dark brown eyes. He is so different than her. With his shining dark brown hair and twinkling eyes, he gives off a sort of aura that makes everybody want to talk to him. Rhapsody gives off the aura that if somebody says something wrong to her, she will break their arm.

Patch sniffs the air, striding over to the stove and turning off the flame. "What happened here?" He asks Rhapsody as he inspects the burnt and mangled eggs. Rhapsody shruggs, not wanting to reply. "Is Grandfather up?" He tries instead.

Rhapsody points to the French doors of the kitchen. "He's out there, smoking his pipe." Patch walksout onto the side porch, telling the old man to come inside because it is time to leave. Grandfather enters, scolding the two youngsters lightly because there is no breakfast ready, then smiling at them to tell them he is ready to go.

_Let's do this, _Rhapsody thinks, as the family makes their way to the town square.

"Sixteen-year-olds over here!" The Peacekeeper gives Rhapsody an almost sympathetic look as she enters the bull pen. He is the one that killed her mother.

Rhapsody glares around at the other Barbie dolls, who give her looks as if she is the bug on the bottom of their five-hundred-dollar shoes. Her eyes fell on one particularly Barbie-ish girl, with long silvery-blonde hair and big pale eyes – Leela. She glances over at Rhapsody, giving her this smug little smirk that she must think is cute but really just makes her over-full lips look grotesque and twisted. "What are you smirking at?" Rhapsody snaps, grey-black eyes flashing hazardously.

"Nothing, Rhappie. Just another ugly loser that isn't worth my time." Leela glances at the girls' Reaping ball, which Rhapsody suspects to be five names short. Being the mayor's daughter has its perks.

The crowds hush as Lulu Something-or-other, their ditzy bubbly escort, wobbles onto the stage, baring her too white, too sparkly teeth at us. She frightens Rhapsody – and not many things do. "Heee-llo, District One! You guys ready for the Reaping?" The volume of cheers is overwhelming. Welcome to District One – second most enthusiastic Career District. "Allll-righty then!" Lulu rambles in her drawn-out words. "Ladies first!" She reaches her clawed hand into the bowl, dramatically pausing and scrambling around a bit, then reads the name silently before yelling it aloud. All of the girls around Rhapsody bate their breath, except Leela, who still has that smug grin on her face.

"Leela Rebins!"

Leela looks like a fish out of water – eyes bulging, mouth gaping, heaving for breath. "No! No! There's some kind of mistake! It can't be me! It shouldn't be me, because –"

Every pair of eyes is on Leela, waiting for her to give her reason and confess that her father has been secretly stealing her names each year. She falls silent, looking around with hopeful eyes that beg someone to volunteer. Nobody moves a muscle. Needless to say, Leela wasn't the most well-liked girl.

Rhapsody slowly and deliberately walks toward Leela, this time it is her turn to smirk. "Don't worry, _Leelie_, I help you out." She raised her voice. "I volunteer!" The sound pierces through the smirking silence. "My name is Rhapsody Myra, and I volunteer." She climbs onto the stage. Leela glares at her still.

**D2: Nakomi Mihani**

"_C'mon, Maida, how bad can the water be? We need to cross, don't we?" _

_Maida doesn't look too certain. "Yes, but –"_

"_You want to pick off those tributes from Ten, don't you?"_

"_Yes! But_ –"

"_Then come on." His impish features are smiling at Maida with satisfaction at being right. He dips his toes into the water, then jumps in, ready to swim across the calm river. The water seems cool and inviting, and Maida's features soften with relief that nothing bad is happening. Suddenly, his head jerk under water, but only for an instant. _

"_Stop teasing! It isn't funny!" Maida calls._

_He doesn't seem to hear. Instead, his big blue eyes are trained on the waters around him. He bobs under again. "What the hell was that?" He cries._

_Again, he jerks under, staying there for a long time. To Maida it seems like minutes, but is really only a few seconds. The water swirls over his dark head. His pale hand breaks the surface, followed by his head, gasping desperately to fill his depleted lungs with breath. Maida screams as crimson liquid stains the waters around him. "Niko!" Her voice is shrill and panicked. Again he goes under, again he comes up. _

_A little round fish jumps up towards Maida, snapping with its sharp jaws before splashing back into the water – now completely red. "Niko!" Maida screams again, diving into the deep river. She cries out in agony as the little fish tears a chunk off her ankle, adding her blood to Niko's. Another fish, drawn by the fresh blood, swims over. And another. And another. _

_After several gruesome minutes, two bodies, almost all the flesh stripped away, bob up and float down along the river. The water goes calm again – tainted with teenage blood._

Nakomi snaps up – her eyes wide and searching, the sounds of rushing water still in her ears. Her slim chest heaves up and down, a bead of sweat dripping down her forehead. "Just a dream," she mutters. "Just a dream."

The door to her bedroom slams open, a worried face in the doorframe. It is her father's, his concerned eyes boring into Nakomi's identical ones. "Are you okay, Nakomi? You were talking in your sleep."

_Screaming is more like it_, Nakomi mentally adds. She stretches her arms and glances out the window – the sun is just rising. The Reaping won't start for a few more hours, giving Nakomi plenty of dreaded time to think about everything: Niko, the Hunger Games, water, piranhas, the fact that she is going to volunteer this time around; everything that she desperately _doesn't_ want to think about.

"I'm okay, Dad. Really. Go back to sleep."

Miguel Mihani looks incredibly reluctant to leave his youngest daughter, but turns around and sleepily shuffles back into his room. Nakomi waits a few minutes, then pads down the stairs of her huge home, going out to the front yard and silently closing the massive door behind her. She crosses her arms over her chest, laying down in the immaculate front lawn, staring at the slowly lightening sky and thinking about all the brutal ways she will finish off her competition.

Once the lazy street begins to show more signs of life, Nakomi stands back up (the back of her tanktop and boxers damp because of the dewy grass) and goes back inside, turning on her shower, letting the warm water soak away any grime or imperfections. She has to look her best for the Reaping.

The water finally gets cold and Nakomi steps out of the shower to hear the protesting knocks of her older sister Hailyn. Nakomi opens the door of the bathroom, struck by how closely her older sister resembles their mother, especially when she is angry. Hailyn was definitely angry now.

"Thanks, Nakomi, for using up all of the hot water. How am I supposed to take a shower now?" Hailyn was a bit more conceited than Nakomi and Kailyn, Hailyn's twin.

Nakomi shrugged. "Take a cold one?" She heard Kailyn laugh. Hailyn was also always grumpy before her daily shower.

After a few minutes – and a lot of Hailyn's whining – the Mihani's were ready to go. The Peacekeeper's were shouting at everybody to get in their respective sections as if somebody would try and pass as someone else. This is District Two, the district with highest volunteering rate – they take pride in being Reaped.

Here, the Reapings start as quickly as possible. The mayor speeds through his welcome and reading of the Treaty. Trixiebel, the escort, greets the awaiting crowds then dips her purple hand into the girls' bowl. There is no suspense. The name is Hailyn Mihani.

Nakomi almost starts to laugh at the irony of it all. Hailyn looks close to frustrated tears. "I volunteer for Hailyn!" She speedily cries, before anyone can beat her to the chase. She runs up to the stage, pushing aside a few undeterred hopefuls. "My name is Nakomi Mihani." She turns to look at her District, making eye contact with everyone and glaring at the camera. She _will_ win. At whatever cost.

**D3: Krey Kaitz**

"Krey! Have you seen my wallet?" Jessika's voice resonates through the acoustic halls of their home.

"No, Mom. I haven't. Did you lose it again?" He responds his pale eyes already widening as if she could see them. In fact, he _had _seen it. Somehow, it had wound up in his pocket and he had noticed as he just-so-happened to walk past the bar, figuring he would put the money to use and turn the twenty into two hundred. He did. He then returned the borrowed twenty into the wallet and strategically placed it on the kitchen counter. Works every time. And, he is always free of suspicion when it is recovered unharmed.

No reply from Jessika. Krey hears her high heels clicking through the hardwood halls, finally stopping. "Found it!" She stalks back through the halls and to the door of Krey's room. "It was in the kitchen, of all places." She scrunches up her freckly nose in bewilderment. It is almost breathtaking how alike Krey and his mother look – right down to the amount of faint freckles on their olive-toned faces. The only feature Krey has that distinguishes himself as his father's son are his brilliant, pale green eyes that seem to get him out of any trouble he causes. "Oh, and Krey, guess what I just got in the mail." Jessika leans her willowy frame against the door frame. Krey inconspicuously turns on the eyes. He just looks at his mother. She looks back at him.

"The bills?" He jokes.

"A letter from Mrs. Adams. She says you put a low-scale bomb in her desk?" Jessika's question was incredulous and skeptical.

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"You destroyed everyone's homework!"

"Well, that's a good thing then."

"You're lucky you didn't hurt anyone!"

"No harm, no foul. That's what Mrs. Adams always says."

"She called you a menace to the whole District!"

"And I call her a wrinkly old bat. The point being…?"

Jessika sighs, rubbing her temples. "I just… I'm going to let your father deal with this after the Reaping."

"And when will he deal with me if I get Reaped?"

His mother's brown eyes harden and flash. "Don't even joke about that, Krey."

Krey looks his mother straight in the eye. "I wasn't."

Needless to say, the drive to the Reaping was awkward and silent. Krey tries to crack a few sarcastic jokes, but the letter from his teacher had officially ruined the mood. Krey refuses to blame it on his own remarks.

The Kaitz's red family car pulls to a stop just outside of the town square, facing the lines of kids ready for the Reaping. Krey has always found some twisted irony in the fact that the teenagers are roped off in different pens, awaiting the slaughter as if they were nothing but cows or pigs or chickens.

"Bye, Krey." Jessika pulls her son into a long hug, before walking away to join the other adults, forced to watch two of their children receive the death sentence. Jessika smooths down her sleek black hair and melts into the crowd, leaving Krey all alone.

He steps into the 17-year-old section, standing next to Chaz, his best friend. He looks toward the 17-year-old girls' section, briefly smiling at a couple faceless friends before spotting Sonia, giving her a reassuring grin. They all had only one more year of this, only one more year of pure heart stopping suspense and terror at the prospect of their names being called. Make it through this year and next year and they're golden!

Nobody really listens to the Mayor as he reads the Treaty, and everyone's heart stops and eyes glare as Liger comes onto the stage – a ridiculous green man who strongly resembles a metrosexual leprechaun. He is one of the few escorts to call the boy's names first. Krey holds his breath, praying that it won't be Chaz.

The good news is: it isn't Chaz.

The bad news is: it's him.

Krey actually laughs out loud as he makes his way to the high wooden stage, fixing his large pale eyes on Liger the Leprechaun.

**D4: Derrick Boone**

_Whoosh!_

The javelin rockets out of Derrick's large hand, arcing perfectly in the air and landing smack-dab in the middle of the bull's-eye. Flawless shot.

The gaggle of girls giggle and squeal, finding every excuse to touch Derrick or compliment him. They drape themselves over him, link their arms through his, giggle as they feel his abs, and swoon when he fixes them with his sky blue stare.

"How did you _do _that, Der?" One girl, a blonde named Aqualona, oozes, her round eyes flirtatious and wide.

He smiles. "A good magician never reveals his secrets. But, I can do a _lot_ of things, Aqua." He winks at the blonde, followed by a chorus of high-pitched giggles.

"How about a bet, Derrick?" A voice sounds out. The voice belongs to Nereida, a pretty, black-haired green-eyed girl with delicate and pretty features and a bold personality.

Derrick cocks a blonde eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"If you miss your next shot, I'll kiss your cheek." She pauses. "If you _make_ it, well… you'll find out."

"I guess I will, Nereida. The bet is on."

Nereida smirks. "You never seemed to be one to back down from a challenge." All of the other girls watch the exchange jealously, wishing they have the brains to think of that.

Again, Derek picks up a javelin, and again makes the target even more perfectly than last time now that he has something to work towards.

He smiles at Nereida. "I'm ready to find out."

Nereida inches closer to him, pressing her lips to his and forming to his shape. Her lips don't leave his for a full thirty seconds before she finally pulls back, still smirking. The girls heave jealous sighs.

"I like that bet," Derrick murmurs, "want to make it again?"

"Not yet, Lover Boy. Here comes your _girlfriend_." Nereida says it knowing that the title means nothing to Derrick and that he will mess around with however many girls he wants anyways.

He glances behind him to see Tanya's faraway figure. He turns back towards Nereida. "She's a minute away, and this'll only take thirty seconds."

"Keep me wanting more Derrick." She leans even closer to him and whispers in his ear, "You're a good kisser."

He sighs and runs his hand through his golden-blonde hair, running over to Tanya. He picks her up and kisses her for a full forty seconds, then finally sets her down, her auburn curls bouncing. "Hey, babe," he purrs, tossing a wink to Nereida's general direction.

Once back with the group, more giggles and sighs greet him, regardless of his girlfriend on his arm. Finally, the subject turns to the Hunger Games.

"I wish you weren't volunteering this year!" Aqualona declares.

"You're not the only one," Nereida adds.

"Yeah, baby, why can't you just volunteer next year?" Tanya throws in.

"Yeah Derrick!"

"What if you get hurt?"

"What if you get _killed_?"

"Ladies, ladies please! Don't worry about me, worry about the other tributes!"

_This whole thing is stupid. Why not just declare me winner and save everyone the trouble?_

Derrick stands in the 17-year-old boys' pen, looking around at everybody's faces. He recognizes some boys from training who never stood a chance. "Hey! Tanner!" A fellow blonde-haired seventeen-year-old turns at Derrick's voice. "Better luck next year, right?" Derrick laughs cruelly.

"Next year? You mean when you'll be dead?" Tanner throws back, laughing as well. Derrick sobers up and contemplates bashing this boy's head in, but then decides that it won't be a good idea to be shot by Peacekeepers before he can even volunteer, so he remains quiet.

Finally, the mayor shuts up and Wave Summers steps up to the stage. Derrick is pretty sure that she just changed her name to fit her District, and vaguely ponder that if she was in Twelve she would be Dirt Poor or Can't Feed Our Families or something, then laughs at his own "cleverness".

Wave reaches her bleached hand into the bowl, scrambling around a bit before finally pulling the name out. "Tan –"

"I, Derrick Boone, volunteer!"

Wave's blue eyebrows furrow in annoyance at the interruption, but she recovers. "Welcome, Derrick Boone, to the 49th Annual Hunger Games."

**D5: Maia Colt**

Maia has always hated to see her mother cry. Not that she has seen it happen much though, she can only remember it happening once, but that was enough times for her to know she hates it. The one time was in the fresh wake of her father's murder, which meant the pain was fresh and reverberating and agonizing. It was like a long jagged gash – new flows of blood come with every fresh beat of your heart. Every time you think it will come to an end and you begin to move on, a new memory brings you right back to where you started – a vicious circle.

_Maia had prepared dinner for her newly depleted family; her brother was in the yard and her mother was in her room. Maia remembers that she was scared and worried, not knowing what her mother was capable of doing to herself. She ran upstairs to her mother's room, knocking softly on the door. "Dinner's ready, Momma."_

_No reply came._

"_Momma?" Maia's voice was timid but urgent. She pressed her ear to the door and heard strange whimpering noises. Maia opened the door a crack, peeking in through the hole it made. No sign of her mother, but she still heard the whimpering noises. Maia opened the door the rest of the way, peering into the dark room. Her eyes found a lump on the floor – moaning and sighing and whimpering. She drew closer, and brown eyes widened and she almost jumped back as she saw what the lump was._

_Lying in a fetal position, blood streaming down her arms and tears streaming down her face was Maia's mother. Her face was twisted and contorted from the physical and emotional excruciating torment she had been faced with. Her slender fingers were curled around a long, evil-looking knife, grasping it so hard her knuckles were as white as the moon. _

"Here's your breakfast, Momma. Your favorite…." Maia sings, placing the plate of deviled eggs on toast in front of her mother. Irma Colt smiles back at her teenaged daughter, picking up her fork and exposing the jagged scars going down her forearm. They are the only proof that that horrid night ever even happened. "Finn! Get in here! Chocolate-chip pancakes for breakfast!" Maia smiles at her little white lie as Finn rushes into the kitchen, sniffing out the pancakes like a crazy person.

"Pancakes? Where?" He yells.

"Right here, squirt." Maia set down a plate of deviled eggs on toast in front of her little brother, ruffling his wild scarlet hair. Maia and her brother have their father's crimson hair and inquisitive brown eyes. In fact, both are his spitting image, sharing almost no link to their mother, with her dark brown hair, blue eyes, and tan skin. "Eat up."

Maia grabs an apple for herself, takes a huge bite, and bids farewell to her mother and brother, claiming that she wants to get to the Reaping early.

"You're not going with Emmeline or Delia?" Her mother inquires.

Maia shrugs, then strides out of the door of their little bungalow. In truth, Maia isn't too keen on spending time with her friends when she doesn't have to. They are all spectacular and unique and nice and seem to wash Maia out in comparison. Of course, she always walks with them at school, and sits with them at lunch, and even squeaks out a laugh or two when someone says something remotely funny, but she never feels like she belongs. She morbidly thinks that if she were to get Reaped and die in the Hunger Games no one save her mother and brother would notice. And she secretly revels in her invisibility.

She likes being able to form her own thoughts, thoughts that aren't sprung from something that lovely Lyra told her, or charming Christie, or enthusiastic Emmeline, or daring Delia. She is mundane Maia, with nothing to distinguish her save the tragic event that she wishes never happened, that it was only some horrible, never-ending dream.

She nears the square in all of its District Five DNA-geek glory, her feet shuffling and her spirits fading. The Reaping. Maia has worked ever since she was twelve at developing a shield, a cold detachment, a numb indifference to the deaths of the kids she knew, loved, talked to, studied with.

And, looking at the faces of the kids penned up and roped out, Maia knows that she will have to bid two of them goodbye. District Five is not a huge district, and she talked to nearly everybody between the ages thirteen and twenty. She just prays that Christie or Lyra or Emmeline or Delia aren't called. They were too quirky and exciting and endearing to die.

Before she knows it, the town square fills up, the mayor hobbles up to the stage, and the escort, Wolfie, joins him. The Treaty is read, and soon Wolfie takes the stage. "Are you ready to hear the tributes, District Five?" A few half-hearted murmurs, clearly not the cheers Wolfie wants. He clears his throat. Alrighty then, here is the lovely lady who will be coming to the Capitol.

_Not Emmeline, not Lyra, not Christie, not Delia, not Emmeline, not Lyra, not Christie, not –_

"Maia Colt! Come on up!"

She forgot to say _not me_.

**D6: Piper Cadence**

Everyone looks at her differently now, and Piper isn't so sure if she likes it or not. They give her wary stares, not sure when she is going to snap, not sure when she is going to explode. They treat her as if she is a time bomb, unpredictable and fragile.

Of course, Piper has always been fragile – fragile and silent. Keeps-to-herself Piper. Shy Piper. Pushover Piper. Until that day when they took it too far. Elliot can't help the way his brain works, or the fact that he got the small, mousy must-wear-glasses genes that are apparently so undesirable to the kids of District Six.

She can't help it if she snaps. She's only human, and every human has their breaking point. Even if that human is shy, quiet, patient Piper.

"Piper?" Gloria Cadence's pale, pretty face appears in the bathroom doorway. "You ready honey? You've been brushing your hair for half an hour."

Piper's green eyes widened. She cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm ready. Are we leaving now?"

Her mother nodded, retreating into the hallway.

The sound of clicking heels heralds the Cadences' approach to the town-square – even her father's heels make a tapping sound.

"_Hey, Chubs!"_

"So Mother, are those new heels?"

"_Hey, dork boy!"_

Piper's mother gives her a funny look. Her daughter never asks about things as material as heels.

"_Why don't you go get a room?"_

"Uh, yeah, sweetheart, they are."

"_What, you gonna sing your way out of this, Heifer?"_

Piper nods, looking down at the black pumps. "They're nice."

"_This isn't some problem you can solve, nerd."_

Now, even Piper's father is giving her a funny look. Marcus knows this isn't like his daughter.

"_Stop it!"_

"Piper, are you feeling okay?"

"_What? Is Pushover Piper gonna get you out of this?"_

"Yeah, Dad. I'm feeling fine."

"_Just leave Piper alone."_

"Are those kids giving you trouble again, Piper?"

"_We don't want any trouble."_

"Just the opposite, Dad."

"_Well, trouble is what you're going to get, Robin Harrier."_

The Cadences enter town square. Gloria and Marcus give their daughter a hug, hoping beyond hope that Piper Cadence would not be the name called. Piper walks alone to the sixteen-year-old section, feeling the wary eyes around her. She again feels like a time bomb, isolated and alone.

"Hey, girlie!" Robin's round, smiling face appears in front of Piper's. Her broad infectious smile seemed to melt about one-eighth of Piper's inhibitions. The shy auburn-haired girl let out her usual timid, close-mouthed smile.

"Hi." Piper's sea-green eyes travel to Robin's forearm, decorated with a few deep scars from the worst days. Robin self-consciously pulls down her sleeve, clearing her throat. Robin looks like she is about to say something when the mayor interrupted her, booming out the Treaty. Next comes their escort, Tigris Indies, with orange and black striped skin and large yellow eyes. Her voice has a purring quality to it, which probably inspired her whole look.

"Well hello District Six!" A few half-hearted hello's. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Tigris's yellow eyes shine as her orange and black hand dips into the bowl, emerging with a tiny slip of paper. Piper glances over at Robin, who has her fingers crossed over her chest.

"Piper Cadence!"

Piper's sea-green eyes widen, somehow not seeing anything but the distinct form of the stage and the round shape of the Reaping Ball, mocking her in all their clarity. Oh, how she wishes that she were invisible now.

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><p><strong>Alrighty guys! Here's how its gonna work: the next six tributes to represent their districts will be on the trains, not the actual Reapings. They may have flashbacks, so you never know. Also, you may have noticed that I have only written one tribute per district. This is merely to save time and get the story started faster! The chapter after the Train Rides will be the Chariot Rides, where we will here the POVs of the other twelve tributes who did not get a POV in the Reaping or Train Rides. A little confusings, but you guys will see soon. :-)<strong>

**Also I have started a forum for this story, and will post a link in the next chapter. In the forum you will be able to see character profiles, interact, and help give me story ideas! Yay!**

**And I feel like a broken record, but I need a lot more tributes! And I know that beggars can't be choosers, but I would like to have some more arrogant conceited ones as well :-)**

**All in all, I have awesome tributes so far, so thanks guys! Especially:**

**thenewanniecresta**

**J.C Kali**

**Katydidxx**

**BlueSkyKite**

**don'..**

**for submitting the tributes in this chapter :-)**

**Happy Hunger Games!**

**FreckleFacedFiend**


	3. Final List!

1:

**M: Gallus Templesmith**

**F: Rhapsody Myra**

2:

**M: Callum Jerring**

**F: Nakomi Mihani**

3:

**M: Krey Kaitz**

**F: Skrenta Losse**

4:

**M: Derrick Boone**

**F: Zea Chrysler**

5:

**M: Eathyn Mozer**

**F: Maia Colt**

6:

**M: Dylan Caradoc**

**F: Piper Cadence**

7:

**M: Joran Matterson**

**F: Macie Amber Ever Aidens**

8:

**M: Tarou Orai**

**F: Azure Farrah**

9:

**M: Blaze De La Rosa**

**F: Blinky Jenner (see bottom)**

10:

**M: Austin Tarpley**

**F: Willow Grace Roy**

11:

**M:Rocko Warner**

**F: Riley Rynne**

12:

**M: Lupe Lockinow**

**F: Cyan Mercy**

**To: Katydidxx:**

**Sorry but right before you reviewed somebody already PMed me the D2 Boy and the D5 boy! Thank you for Julius and Dylan, so I just moved them around. With Dylan it isn't as drastic, but I know Julius is a bit farther off but I figured he can be a crazy self-trained sociopath instead of a Career sociopath?**

**To: Everyone:**

**Okay, thank you to Mistere101, Katydidxx, FoalyWinsForever, and TheCritic for completing the list! Yayay! The Train Rides will be up very soon!**

**Happy Hunger Games!**

**PS: Below is the forum link (type in without spaces). I have not yet finished putting up every character's profile, but I shall be doing that soon. Just click on the Tainted Glory forum after following the link.**

: http:/ .net /myforums/FreckleFacedFiend/2350796


End file.
